


The Rules of Courtship

by lysanatt



Series: The Rules Verse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Hint at Shiro/Keith, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been the way to ensure peace between neighbors. Kolivan wants to spearhead the peace process.





	The Rules of Courtship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/gifts).



> This is sort of a prequel to a much longer work that hasn't yet been written - apart from pages and pages of plotting. And thanks D, for luring me into shipping Kolivan/Lance, because I didn't have enough rarepair ships as it was. :D

"He wants to _what_?" Lance stares at Coran, eyes wide, mouth open. "Are you serious?" Lances voice breaks and reaches a note close to a Soprano C. "You can't be."

"I am always serious. It is what the delegation was about." Coran fiddles with his mustache. 

Lance is unable to determine whether Coran is stressed by the situation or just his usual self. "Why me? I mean—" Lance waves his hand in front of his crotch. He has no idea how the Galra view that sort of thing. Dick on dick. It would be more precise to say that he _didn't_ have an idea. Apparently they're good. Personally he's not hung up on body parts, being this or other, but a Galran dude? That's something else. Dick or no dick. "So all those purple guys were here… for…me? The delegation?" It has still not sunk in.

Coran nods and pulls at his mustache again. "Kolivan wanted to spearhead the peace process."

"Oh, that's just flattering. Peace process. Some reason for a date."

"Uh, no. It will not be a _date_ , Lance. It'll be— alliance."

Lance's brain is catching up with reality. "So I'm gonna marry a nine feet tall guy to ensure peace on Earth?"

"Is there anything wrong with being tall?" Coran asks, like he is surprised that Lance is slightly closer to the ground than both Alteans and the Galra. "Besides, he is not nine feet. More like—what is a foot, by the way?"

"If I'm going to marry him, I'm going to kiss him, right?" Lance makes a kissy-face in the direction of the direction that is not Coran. "Don't know about you, but I'll need a ladder." It's not entirely true; although the Galra are tall, it's more like _one_ foot. Two, maybe. One and some inches.

"I gather you are not entirely against the idea, then?"

"I'm totally against the idea. Why am _I_ picked out to be the savior of the universe?"

"Are you serious?" Coran's mustache wiggles in annoyance. "What, exactly, have you been doing the last couple of years?"

"Ah." There is that. Lance grabs a chair and sinks down on it heavily, suddenly pulled into a reality he'd prefer not to be too closely connected to. It's serious, yeah. So, defending the universe has taken a new and strange direction. Lance rubs a hand over his face, forcing his mind to work. Clearly it matters to the higher-ups if Lotor and Allura both have approved that kind of offer. Even though Kolivan is on their side, he _is_ Galra. Only there are no sides anymore. There is Princess Allura and Prince Lotor, co-rulers of the known universe, not to mention the Council without whose say-so neither Lotor, nor Allura can do anything but represent.

Maybe Lotor and Princess Allura should marry each other if they are so interested in… intercultural alliance? Yeah, right. Allura would sooner marry Kaltenecker than Lotor.

Lance snorts, amused by the thought, and Coran sends him an odd look. 

So, Galra. At least Kolivan is the commander of the Blade of Marmora and not one of Lotor's buddies. Or worse, some of the leftovers from Zarkon. Sendak. Lance shudders at the thought.

Never one for politics or what comes with it, Lance isn't so stupid as not to understand how peace is going to play out. Alliance, business, relations, friendships, commerce. If universal peace is going to last, they can't stay in each their camp and pretend nothing happened. _Nothing_ being Zarkon's death, Voltron and Allura's forces winning the war, Lotor's deviousness winning the peace and his father's kingdom, the Blade to keep them all in line. Alliance will have to bring them all together so that someone like Zarkon cannot happen again.

Lance sighs and hangs his head. "Why do I have to be the one to do it?" he asks again.

This time it is a smile that makes Coran's mustache wiggle. "He likes you."

That makes Lance look up, eyes wide. "Can't he ask me out on a date like a normal person? How am I—"

"Galra tradition. He is going to court you."

"You said that. What's it—" Lance shakes his head. "What's wrong with dinner and a movie? You know… popcorn and a cuddle?"

"Official state business. An example for all citizens, like that, erm— to encourage more alliances. Shiro has offe—"

" _Shiro_?" 

What the fuck? Shiro is giving himself up to ensure peace? Lance frowns. Well, he is the hero among them so it shouldn't be so surprising. Only Lance was so sure that Shiro and Keith…

"He _is_ very heroic," Coran adds.

"Shiro is going to take… a Galra? A Galra who is not— He is… wants to be engaged to— But— And why—" Lance's thoughts collide and he looks to Coran for help. "What about Keith?"

"Yes." Coran pats Lance on the back, ignoring Lance's blatant hints. "You are lucky to be the first chosen one. Shiro has not yet had any suitors. Kolivan chose… you. Not, erm, Shiro. Lotor approves, Allura—"

"Allura?"

"Allura is going to accept your decision no matter what. But it will help her in the forthcoming negotiations if…" Coran pauses. "70 percent of diplomacy is appearance and—"

"30 percent is me, fucking a tall purple guy for the good of the people? No pressure then."

Coran has the decency to blush. "I wouldn't quite put it like that."

"Nah, but that's what it's about. I'm going to be the poster boy for alliance and cooperation. All right. I'll do it." Lance doesn't need more time to decide. Kolivan is probably going to regret the offer and say no anyway, that's how it usually goes, so what the hell. And if Kolivan doesn't refuse him outright, no one can force them to marry if they don't want it—that's sort of what the war was about, being free to do whatever the quiznak they want to do without the giant asshat Zarkon butting in with droids and torture and slavery. At least they both can get laid—can't be too bad. Kolivan is… not pretty, but he sure is big. And muscular. And brave. Heroic too. Plus, they are friends, sort of. Brothers in arms and all that.

Now that Lance thinks of it, Kolivan has a lot going for him except not being a girl. That's fine. Men has assets too.

Now that Lance thinks of it, he never thought he'd think of Kolivan that way, like he's… attractive. Hm.

Now that Lance thinks of it, that might have been a mistake. 

"I'm sure," Lance says with more determination. "I'm sure."

\- 0 - 

It's not awkward at all. Not with a delegation of ten Galra officials, Prince Lotor and his representatives, Allura, four mice and an assortment of allies from a number of planets. Not awkward. At. All. Lance can't even decide if it had helped if Kolivan had been a woman. Probably not. Could have been one of Lotor's generals.

Not that they aren't total babes. Sure, they'd been more attractive if they hadn't tried to kill them all and take over world domination, but a guy can't have it all. Maybe he likes a good man better than a murderous girl, so what? Maybe he does have a thing for Galra—as long as they are not trying to actively kill him which excludes most of them, except Keith and Kolivan. He's not sure about Keith, though. There might have been once or twice.

As they walk into the embassy suite, Lance understands how this is way above his pay-grade. The luxurious room, the assembled ambassadors and commanders, some of which Lance very actively tried to kill at some point during the war. The glares he gets from them are not too friendly. Coran walks with him across the marble-tiled room, a father giving away his son, heels clicking in the silence. Lance had two weeks to prepare for the courting, yet he is not ready for this, all the pomp and circumstance. He is so not ready. 

Fuck ceremony and tradition. Lance'll take his lion and a battle any day to this pompous mess. 

Maybe it'd been better of they had decided on another location. Not even Allura's palace has the kind of sparkly, frilly stuff that the Earth embassy has. There's silk and candelabras and polished wood. The empty chair Lance is led towards is pale blue and on lion's feet, elegant. Sturdy, though, as the chair next to it is exactly like it, and it is still standing. Kolivan is sitting there, waiting.

For him. 

Kolivan gets up, towering over Lance, not intimidating, just tall and big and kind of the only safe and familiar in this. He doesn't look uncomfortable, just stern and serious, which means that he is just Kolivan. That's reassuring. He bows slightly, right hand over his heart. 

Suddenly Lance is nervous. This is nothing he can charm his way out of. He is going to sit here, watched by the universe's finest, deciding on his future with no real agency at all.

"Please, sit," Kolivan urges, waiting for Lance to do so before he returns to his own chair.

It turns out to be some secret sign that everybody starts chatting and retreating to the far edges of the room. It's not much, but it's gives Lance a sense of privacy. At least they'll have that.

Lance makes the mistake of looking up at Kolivan. It's not always easy to read emotion in the strange eyes, not that he is good at it in the first place. "You come here often?" Lance says and winks, before he can even think. Not that he is that good at that, either.

He winces when his brain catches up with what comes out of his mouth. "Should probably work on my pick-up lines."

Kolivan's eyes shine. Lance thinks he might be laughing. Kolivan leans closer, keeping his voice low. "They are not necessary. We are here to form an alliance. You have me already. If you want to—"

"Marry? I mean, it's not like we— Why do you…"

"Why do _you_?"

"It's not _fair_ ," Lance hisses. He has never been forced to think deeply or to do other than to fly his lion, and this is more than he can handle. "For peace, and because you asked nicely, and maybe because I don't mind… that." Lance waves a hand in Kolivan's direction. "Coran says you like me." Somehow it doesn't bother him to say what he thinks. He doesn't need to flirt or to impress Kolivan. Not that anything impresses Kolivan in the first place, Lance believes.

Kolivan nods. "You are brave. A warrior." His stern face turns softer. "And because I don't mind… that." Kolivan makes a similar wave. "Coran was right."

"For real?" Lance smiles for the first time in days. "You think I'm hot?"

This time Kolivan's own smile is visible. "And you amuse me. I am not easily amused."

"No shit. Didn't think you'd be able. To be amused, I mean. You look so… grump— serious. So you really think I'm that sizzling, yeah?"

Kolivan's laughter is contagious and surprising. "I think it helped, not living under constant threat of being killed in combat."

Lance nods. It definitely makes a difference. "You think Sendak looks different now than during the war?"

"Probably not." Kolivan's fangs flicker in another smile. "I'm sure it's a permanent expression. He should probably get himself a good-looking boyfriend. He'd feel better if he had something handsome to look at in the morning."

Lance forgets for a second what he wants to say, mouth open. That was not what he had expected from Kolivan. Seriousness, awkward conversation, a common decision not to go on with the entire ridiculously stupid idea of getting married, despite doing it for the princess and peace in the entire known universe. A tick passes by, then another and another. "Fuck me," Lance breathes, dragging out the words, trying to make sense of The Blade of Marmora's commander. "What the—"

Again, Kolivan laughs, like he has kept in all his emotions for a very long time until they were safe to let out. He laughs long enough for everybody else to notice. Maybe they are all as surprised as Lance is. Even Lotor seems to have had that arrogant smug expression wiped off his face in exchange for one of surprise.

"It will be my honor to take you as my husband," Kolivan says quietly when he stops laughing, but not smiling. The fangs are a bit disconcerting. "I believe we might get along."

Lance nods. Kolivan likes him, he likes Kolivan—it's more luck than he ever had with the ladies, even as a war hero, despite the shows and the selfies and the stupid, stupid things he did for attention and admiration. Lance studies Kolivan's face, wondering why he cared to be a player for so long, never being serious about anything or anyone. 

Kolivan lets him. Around them, the chatter turns loud again, as if the delegations are back to their attempts at polite diplomatic conversation, also politely ignoring the two of them as well as possible, what with twenty people and mice crammed into one room. Unfazed, face relaxed, it is like Kolivan is used to being looked at, studied, examined. Maybe he is. After all, the scar is prominent, noticeable. It doesn't take away from how he looks; it's just a mark that he is strong and protective. Fearless in battle. Lance sure doesn't mind the scar. They all have them, anyway.

So this is what he'll be seeing in ten years, twenty, thirty? Now that they actually have an outlook for a lifespan that lasts longer than the next mission, the next battle. 

"You are smiling again," Kolivan states. "I don't have any of your Earth coins, but a GAC for your thoughts."

"Again, I'm selling myself cheap," Lance jokes, buying time for that imaginary GAC. It's like the idea of growing older, being with someone for so long, suddenly has gotten a brand new appeal that Lance has never even considered before. It makes him smile. Kolivan makes him…

"So you are taking me for my beauty _and_ my brains?" Lance jokes, halfway serious, making a detour to avoid the give the reply that Kolivan wants.

"I'm taking you for you. We fought together. What could possibly tell more about a person than that?" Kolivan reaches out, his large hand strangely soft on Lance's smaller one, despite callouses and claws. "I know that you stood up for me, demanding that I was treated with the respect by people we saved. To a Galra of the Blade, that means something." Kolivan nods. "You are brave and fair."

Lance turns his hand under Kolivan's, testing how it feels. "So it's really not because I'm hot?"

This time Lance has no trouble whatsoever, recognizing the emotion in Kolivan's eyes. From one moment to the next, they are ablaze with desire. 

Kolivan leans a little closer. "Of course you are… attractive. I have had my eyes on you for a long time. I do not marry to stay celibate," he says, voice low and deep, a ghost of breath teasing Lance's skin. A purr with so many promises that it makes Lance blush. "I marry because I want you. If you are willing."

That instant it doesn't matter what Lance thought about men and marriage before. His forgets to breathe, frozen in the moment, the heat emanating from Kolivan thawing him into action. He closes his fingers around Kolivan's, tight, like it can help him come back from falling into attraction with Kolivan, like it would stop his heart from beating hard in his chest, warmth pooling in his groin. Kolivan's obvious desire works like magic, turning Lance's perhaps-no-maybe into a yes.

Maybe that is all Lance ever wanted. To be wanted. Desired. To be loved because he is Lance.

Lance never really brought his brain into flirting, hitting on every girl with a pulse. It's his second nature, and girls are pretty. But he _knows_ Kolivan. He likes him. They like each other. Just like that, Lance is able to put two and two together and get the actual four that usually evade him. Like and desire? Trust and care? Put them together and get…

More.

"Yeah," Lance gasps, taking a gulp of air, wanting that _more_ so bad that he can hardly wait. He doesn't know how this Galra courtship tradition is going to proceed, other than it is supposed to be lengthy but damn, he hopes it includes more than holding Kolivan's hand at some point in the foreseeable future. "Yeah. Yes. God. Yes, please." 

As it turns out, courtship length is a relative thing.

Because Lance is more than willing when Kolivan pulls him up from the chair without further ado, into his arms, kissing him long and deep enough to make the assembled members of diplomacy and court gasp in unison. Maybe it's the fangs. Or the tongue. Or it is simply that Kolivan is doing something that breaks the rules of courtship and diplomacy, whatever they are, but Lance is sure that those rules do not include making out in public with your intended until he moans loudly, nor does it include said intended being dragged out of an embassy suite and to the nearest hotel so that Kolivan can prove to him exactly how much he wants him.

Then again, Kolivan didn't become leader of the resistance because he was good at following rules. He's the leader because he makes them.

Lance is fine with that. 

But the damned bite marks and the broken bed they'll have to discuss.


End file.
